


I'll Be What I Am

by darkrose



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-13
Updated: 2010-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after the events of "Vegas", John Sheppard gets a visit from a former co-worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be What I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistokah13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mistokah13).



> For mistokah13 for the [John/Ronon Thing-a-Thon](http://community.livejournal.com/satedan_grabass/), who requested "future!fic (5 years from now), AU (all kinds, I'm not picky), being there for each other". This is an AU of "Vegas" which addresses the lack of Ronon in that episode.

"Sheppard! Come on, you asshole, open the fucking door--I know you're in there!" There's a brief pause, followed by more knocking. "Sheppard!"

If it were anybody else, John knows they'd eventually give up and go away. Unfortunately, the words "give up" simply aren't in Detective Ronon Dex's extensive vocabulary. Sighing, John pulls himself to his feet and staggers to the door of his room and yanks it open.

Dex is looming in the doorway, glaring at him. John sighs again. "Guess it would have been unrealistic to hope you wouldn't come looking for me, huh?"

The look Dex gives him says, "Bitch, please," far more eloquently than words. He shoves past John--easy to do when he's got the advantage of least four inches of height and God knows how much muscle mass over John--and sits on the end of the bed.

"What the fuck, man?" he demands angrily. "I get back from vacation and Lorne tells me you fucking up and quit --in the middle of a case--without saying anything? What the hell was that about?"

John leans against the dresser. "Haven't I told you before that you need to stop hanging around me? You're a smart guy with your whole career ahead of you; all I'll do is drag you down."

Dex is unmoved, and continues as if John hadn't spoken. "So, you going to tell me what the hell happened or am I going to have to drag it out of you a word at a time? I went to your place and everything was cleared out, car gone, no forwarding address--nothing. Hell, even that little shit Mikey the Ear didn't know where you'd gone." Dex frowns. "Funny thing...someone paid him off, and he was happy. Said you were a great guy."

John clenches his hands into fists. "So did you find me through more of your stellar police work, then?"

To his surprise, Dex glances away and can't quite meet his eyes. "Not...exactly." The silence stretches out until Dex finally says, "There was this guy. Said he was with Homeland Security, but that was bullshit. Name was--"

"McKay," John finishes. "Doctor Rodney McKay. Right?"

"Yeah. He said..." Dex runs a hand through his hair. "Well, he said a lot of things. But one of them was that he thought you'd head to LA."

"And you bought it?" John's about to continue--anything to change to subject from McKay and the weird shit that happened in the desert--but as usual, Dex talks right over him.

"He said he couldn't tell me everything, because I didn't have the security clearance, but he dropped some pretty big hints that you were involved in that thing that went down out in the desert, with the crazy terrorist trying to build a bomb or something, and that's how you got hurt. Said you'd almost died out there." Dex glares at him again, like John's personally at fault for having been shot. "And he said that if I had any sense, I'd go looking for you. He acted like it was really important."

"He would." John frowns. "So you just took off? Bet Landry was really thrilled with that."

Dex shrugs. "I still have leave from the Kolya case. Told him I was extending my vacation. And the truth is...." He stretches his long legs out in front of him. "I've been thinking maybe it's time for me to move on."

John blinks. "Since when?"

"A while now. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life busting third-rate Mob bosses who're just going to end up back on the street in an hour."

"Can't say I blame you." After four years on the force together, John can read Dex pretty well, and he can tell there's more to it. "Got something in mind?"

"Actually, I do. The FBI dude with McKay, Woolsey, said I should call him if I was interested in some really challenging stuff. I mean, I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a Fed, but still, it may be worth a shot."

When he compares Dex in his jeans, white t-shirt, tribal ink and mop of dark hair that's almost as unruly as John's, to Woolsey, who looked like he had the stick permanently glued up his ass, John's inclined to agree that Dex doesn't look like the typical FBI agent. But he's smart, flexible, and as the youngest guy to make detective in Metro in twenty years, he's damned good at his job. The only problem is that anything Woolsey would be offering is going to be more than Dex--or anyone else--would be prepared for. John has a nauseating vision of Dex as a shrunken, dessicated corpse with a bloody handprint in the center of his chest.

"John?" Dex gets up and comes over to John, who's hunched over with pain that could be from his not-fully-healed injuries. "You okay?" He grabs John's shoulders and pulls him upright.

"Don't do it," John manages to grate out. "Whatever Woolsey offers--say no. Trust me on this."

"Why? John, what the hell is going on? What really happened to you?"

For a moment, John's tempted to tell him the truth about the parallel realities, wormhole, and aliens who can suck your life out of you with their hands. He still isn't sure if he believes it, though; why should Dex?

"It's nothing you want to get mixed up in," he says. "Seriously. I wasn't even in that deep, and you see where I ended up."

Dex looks him up and down. "Looks to me like you're not doing too badly, though I suppose the cash helped."

John knows damn well Dex isn't talking about the Man In Black. "What cash?"

"Oh, come on. The surveillance tapes on that guy show him cleaning up at the poker tables all over town. Funny about that; nothing was found at the scene. The night clerk remembers a plainclothes guy with weird hair going up there and finding the body."

John smiles tightly. "You telling me you just figured out I was a crooked cop? I thought you were smart."

"Usually I am, except for the part where I keep giving a damn about you," Dex retorts.

"Well, don't." John turns around and stares at the crappy painting on the wall. "I've warned you about that. It'll just get you killed."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Like what happened in Afghanistan, which from everything I've been able to find out, wasn't all your fault, but you got to be the one to take the rap."

John stays facing the wall. "You looked me up?"

He can hear the shrug in Dex's voice. "Sure. I wanted to know what your deal was; why everyone thought Landry was being even more of an asshole than usual, sticking the rookie with you. I've got a friend who works in Washington, and he eventually gave me the full story. Most of it, anyway."

"Yeah? Like the part where the only reason I'm not in Leavenworth is because I was blowing my CO and I told him that if anyone asked, I was going to tell?"

There's a long pause before Dex says, "He might have hinted about that, yeah."

"So this is the part where you tell me I'm a fag and you leave, right?"

"No." John's startled; he hadn't heard Dex moving, close enough to whisper in John's ear. "This is the part where I tell you _I'm_ a fag. You're just a fucking idiot."

Dex puts a hand on John's shoulder and turns John to face him. There's a second where they're just staring at each other before Dex--_Ronon_\--kisses him.

John's spent more nights than he cares to think about with his dick in his hand, imagining exactly this moment. It's not quite what he'd pictured, but that's okay, because it's still pretty goddamned good. Ronon's mouth is hot, and he's pressing John into the wall and Christ, John's so hard it fucking _hurts_.

Ronon fumbles with John's belt and fly, uncharacteristically clumsy. Finally, he gets his hand into John's pants and starts jacking him off. It's almost too much. John can't remember the last time he's had this from someone who wasn't getting paid, and he wants to make it last. When Ronon reaches down and starts stroking John's balls, though, it's way too much. John arches off the wall, shoving his hips against Ronon's hand, and comes.

Before he can stop to think about it, John grabs Ronon's hand and licks it clean. When he finally gets the nerve to actually look Ronon in the eye, Ronon's smiling, a bit bemused.

"That was...incredibly hot," Ronon murmurs. John grins at him.

"Yeah? Give me a sec, and I'll show you hot, he says, dropping to his knees.

John's always expected that Ronon would be at least proportional, and he's not disappointed. He is out of practice, and he gags a little at first. It doesn't take long for him to fall into the familiar rhythm, though. Ronon's tentative, keeping his hands on John's head but not really directing him, which is okay, but next time--if there is a next time--John will have to tell him it's okay to get rough.

John can hear the slight hitch in Ronon's breathing as he gets close. He takes a deep breath through his nose and takes Ronon's dick in all the way until he can feel it at the back of his throat. Ronon tightens his grip on John's head, all the warning John gets before tasting Ronon hot and bitter in his mouth. He swallows, hungry after starving for it for so long.

Later, as John's lying awake trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in with Ronon taking up half the bed, he contemplates telling Ronon the truth about the space vampires and Woolsey and McKay. _I'll tell him tomorrow,_ he thinks, _if he doesn't ask._


End file.
